


No More Goodbye Kisses

by shions_heart



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Post-Anime, Reunion Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Anime Canon) The inevitable return of Nezumi. "I wasn’t ready to join No.6. I still hated it and its people too much. I had to leave. I had to try to become more like . . . him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my contribution to the multitude of Nezumi/Shion reunion fics. I hope it's worthy of you all. 
> 
> (I've only seen the anime, so I'll be going off its events/characterizations.)
> 
> ((Also, since Inukashi's involvement here is in Nezumi's POV, they will be referred to with "he/him/his" pronouns, since that is how Nezumi refers to them.))

It was Inukashi who saw him first.

Making his way toward the former No.6 led Nezumi through the remains of the West Block. Only it wasn’t remains anymore. Nezumi was surprised to see how much had been rebuilt in the two years he’d been gone. It still seemed to be in progress, but already the streets were looking nicer, the half-completed buildings cleaner. As he walked, he saw few people, which led him to wonder just how many of the West Block citizens (the ones who had managed to avoid the cleansing at least) were welcomed into No.6.

He almost walked right by Inukashi’s hotel. It still stank of dogs, but the exterior was new, the paint bright and all the windows whole. Thick curtains hung in each window, and they looked new as well. Nezumi wondered who’d paid for all this restoration. As he stepped inside, he immediately noticed the lack of dirt on the floors and mold on the walls. The staircase gleamed, the wood polished and repaired. Even the young dog-keeper appeared more presentable, at least as far as Nezumi could tell from the well-clad posterior, which was all he could see of Inukashi.

The dog-keeper was on his hands and knees, face-to-face with a small retriever. Nezumi couldn’t resist a light-hearted jab.

“I’m sorry, have I interrupted a romantic evening? You’re both looking handsome, I must say.”

Inukashi was on his feet in an instant, dark hair flying about his face, as he turned with a scowl . . .

. . . which promptly changed to a look of shock, then disbelief, before finally settling on anger once more.

“You!”

Nezumi lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Me.”

Inukashi fists clenched. His clothes lacked holes, and his shoes seemed to fit. Nezumi actually felt a small ripple of relief; glad to see the kid was prospering and healthy.

Before he could say anything to that affect, Inukashi’s fist struck him soundly in the jaw. Nezumi stumbled back, shock moving through him before the pain did. He lifted a hand, rubbing the sore spot.

“What the hell was that for?” he asked.

“You know what it’s for,” Inukashi said sullenly.

“I haven’t done anything to you!”

“Not to me, idiot,” Inukashi sneered. He crossed his arms. “To Shion.”

That brought all of Nezumi’s indignation and protests to a grinding halt. He hadn’t heard that name in the entire two years he’d been gone, except from his own voice in the dark of night, as the horrific dreams plagued him. The image of that pale face, marked by the scar, with its wide, innocent red eyes beneath a mop of white hair, rose, unbidden, in his mind. A familiar ache pulsed in his chest, and he turned his face away from the scornful dog-keeper before him.

“I—”

“You abandoned him! After all that sniveling and pathetic display of weakness when he died. Just up and left like he was nothing to you.”

Nezumi grew surly. “It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t ready to join No.6. I still hated it and its people too much. I had to leave. I had to try to become more like . . . him.”

Inukashi scoffed. “You seem the same to me.”

Nezumi moved to sit cross-legged on the floor. The retriever padded over, snuffling him gently until Nezumi raised a hand to stroke its head.

“I found my people,” he said then softly. “I searched and searched until I found them. They were remnants, a couple dozen, maybe. But it gave me hope. They didn’t know me, but they recognized who I belonged to. They took me in. Cared for me. It was like coming home.” He paused, closing his eyes briefly.

Inukashi sniffed. “How very touching. Why bother coming back then? Sounds to me like you had everything you wanted.”

Nezumi shifted, opening his eyes. “I was content, yes. Even happy at times. But something was missing. Despite this . . . this hole in me, I knew I couldn’t return until all my hate was gone. Shi-he doesn’t deserve that. I wanted . . . I wanted to be worthy of him.”

Inukashi yawned, moving to sit across form him. The retriever moved back over to its keeper, placing its head in his lap.

“You’ve grown softer than ever. Who knew you were so sentimental? You used to be so tough and strong. Now look at you. So weak you’re spilling your guts to someone like me. And what do I care of your excuses?”

Nezumi bristled at that.

“I came here to show you how I’ve changed. How I’m a better person now,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Why?” Inukashi’s gaze was merciless.

“I . . .” Nezumi hesitated. An uneasy feeling rose up in him, but he continued, knowing he needed to say it. It was part of the process, the elder had told him. Making amends. “I consider you a friend—” He stopped, frowning, as Inukashi began to laugh.

“Me and you? Friends?” That set him off again, which caused Nezumi’s frown to deepen.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t always treat you well—”

“No shit!”

“But I’m different now! And I wanted . . . I came here to apologize.”

Inukashi’s laughter ceased abruptly. He fixed a cool gaze onto Nezumi, his dark eyes hard as flints. “It’s not me who needs your apology.”

Nezumi looked toward the ground, his jaw clenched. “I know.”

“He might not forgive you, you know,” Inukashi continued, voice light. “Two years is a long time, and a lot has changed while you’ve been gone. He might be different too.”

Nezumi’s fists curled tightly. He couldn’t believe that. Shion would never change. He couldn’t. And yet . . . _The water falling from the ceiling, plastering Shion’s hair to his face. His eyes cold and dull as he pulled the trigger . . ._

“Has he changed?” he ventured to ask, his voice small. He looked up at the little dog-keeper, who, he noticed with a start, wasn’t that little anymore.

Inukashi shrugged, picking at his teeth. “You’ll just have to go find out, won’t you?”

For a moment, Nezumi felt a rush of that old, familiar anger. It rose up in him quickly, like an arrow, and he fought the urge to grab the irksome guttersnipe by the neck and shake him until his teeth rattled, and he told Nezumi everything.

But then he remembered the calm words of the elder and mentally recited the lines to the meditation ritual he’d learned. It was supposed to aid with ridding oneself of unhealthy thoughts and to replace them with soothing ones.

Inukashi was watching him closely. When Nezumi didn’t attack him, he grinned faintly.

“Maybe you have changed,” he said. He moved to stand then, stretching his arms above his head slowly. “Shion’s working at his mom’s bakery. She left it to him after everyone decided to put her in charge of the restoration, seeing as she has government experience and all. The little brat you guys tried to pawn off on me lives with them. Shion cares for it with the help of this girl. She’s a looker too. Rumor has it she and Shion are together.”

Nezumi felt as though Inukashi had dumped ice-cold water over his head and then hit him in the face with the pail.

Inukashi tilted his eyes, raising his eyebrows. “What? It’s been two years. Did you really think he’d wait around for you, when you didn’t even say if you’d be back?”

Nezumi’s heart pounded loudly in his ears. He barely registered Inukashi’s words. He moved to stand slowly, his mouth opening and then closing to form a thin line. Inukashi sighed and shook his head, turning to leave. He whistled to the dog, which joined his side.

“You really have lost, haven’t you? Just as I thought you would. What a weak and pathetic fool you are.”

Nezumi could say nothing, as Inukashi and his companion disappeared around the corner.


	2. Chapter One

Shion stood beside the oven in the kitchen of his mother’s bakery. It was early morning, the sun just rising over the horizon. The light touched the construction crews that were still working on tearing down the rest of the wall that had surrounded No.6 for so long. Other crews were restoring the West Block, and yet others were finishing the monument that stood in the place where the Moon Drop used to be, a monument for all those whose lives had been lost during the cleansing.

It was a sentimental gesture that not everyone had agreed with, but Karan had insisted upon it. They had to do this right, she’d said. History could not repeat itself.

But it wasn’t history that had Shion staring out the window toward the West Block. The sunlight hadn’t reached it yet, and so it was still swathed in darkness. He bit his lip, recalling the dream he’d had that morning. In that place where he lingered between sleep and wakefulness, he’d thought he’d heard Nezumi’s voice. He’d jolted into a seated position, half-expecting to see the taller boy there, kneeling on the bed beside him, a soft smile curling his lips. But of course he hadn’t been there, and Shion had felt foolish for wishing it.

“Shion? Shion!”

He started, turning from the window to look at his mother. Karan was already dressed for work, her hair combed neatly, makeup perfect. She looked beautiful, if a little harried.

“Yes, Mom?”

“I’ve been calling your name for five minutes,” she said, shaking her head; to which Shion could only reply with a sheepish, “sorry.”

“I’m about to leave for the morning meetings. Yui is supposed to be here at seven, so you’ll need to watch Safu from now until then. Are the loaves in the oven?”

Shion glanced toward the oven, trying to remember if he’d placed the loaves in there or not. After a moment he nodded, recalling with relief that he had.

“Good,” Karan said with a smile. She stepped forward to kiss his cheek, not even flinching at the scar. He’d been afraid of her recoiling from him back when they’d been reunited two years ago, but she’d barely glanced at his appearance, simply fallen upon him with tears of relief and joy.

“I’ll be back for lunch,” she told him, heading for the door. “Don’t daydream too much! Remember your responsibilities!”

“I will!” Shion called, waving to her as she left. He sighed then, double-checking the loaves in the oven, before heading out of the kitchen to the stairs that led to the apartment above. Although many people had suggested Karan use the taxes to move to a nicer neighborhood, she’d declined. They were already privileged, she’d said. It was those whose homes had been destroyed that needed the money.

Safu lay in his small bed, sleeping soundly. Shion watched him for a moment, a slight ache pricking his chest. Every time he looked at him, he was reminded of his own Safu, whom he’d lost. It was why he’d named the baby after her, despite the child being male. Shion had wanted someone to carry on her memory in some way. She deserved that at the very least.

Carefully, Shion bent to kiss the soft forehead of the baby, though he wasn’t much of a baby anymore. A little over two years old, he was now, and already starting to babble out words. When Karan had asked Shion where the baby had come from, Shion hadn’t mentioned that he’d risked his life to save him. But he remembered that day clearly, and still had nightmares where he called out for Nezumi . . .

He shook his head to clear it. No use dwelling on it. He had work to do. Gently picking up the child, he cradled Safu to his chest, as he walked back down to the kitchen to check on the bread. The store would be opening soon, but little Safu needed to be attended to as well. It was why Karan had hired Yui to help Shion in the shop and to watch Safu. Shion was grateful for the help, but he couldn’t help but feel somewhat uneasy around Yui. Something about her made him nervous.

With one hand, Shion arranged the finished éclairs and rolls on a tray, lifting it somewhat awkwardly to place it in the window display. Looking out, he was distracted by the fall of rain, as it began to descend. _That could be a bother,_ he thought. _We might not get many customers if it’s raining._

He was still staring out at the rain, musing how to attract customers while it rained (perhaps a delivery service was in order?), when the door opened and a very lovely young woman stepped inside the shop. She had blue eyes and long black hair, which she kept in a braid that lay over her shoulder. She was slender and well endowed, something that hadn’t escaped the notice of the young men in their block. However, despite many frequent stops by admirers, Yui paid them no mind, and it was clear to most who her sights were set on.

But the object of her affection was unfortunately quite oblivious, and never seemed to understand when she was making advances. He turned to her now, seemingly unaffected by her soaking attire, other than to exclaim on its wetness and suggest that perhaps she should carry an umbrella with her next time.

“Are you alright to take Safu, or should you dry off first?” Shion asked hesitantly, not wanting to get the baby wet, who was now stirring in his arms.

“Yui,” he babbled softly, reaching toward her once he recognized his caregiver.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a change of clothes,” Yui admitted, taking the child and cooing softly to him.

“You can borrow some of mine,” Shion offered. “You know where my things are. I think Safu needs changing anyway.”

Yui sighed good-naturedly. “Leaving it to me, were you?” she asked with a grin.

Shion flushed. “I’m sorry. I got . . . distracted.”

Yui waved him off, not minding. She left up the stairs with Safu, and Shion turned back to the kitchen, hurriedly pulling the loaves out of the oven before they burned. He grimaced faintly, as he inspected them. They were going to be somewhat crispy, but perhaps someone would enjoy them that way.

The bell above the door rang, indicating someone had entered the storefront. Shion winced. He’d forgotten to lock it after Yui entered. Straightening, he placed the baking sheet that held the panned loaves on the counter, turning to walk back into the front of the bakery.

“I’m sorry, but we haven’t opened yet,” he said, as he stepped out of the kitchen.

The figure standing by the door didn’t move. Water dripped from the ends of his dark hair, half-hidden beneath the hood of a dark cloak. Shion felt his heart begin to pound rapidly in his chest. He stared and stared, and the figure didn’t move, only seemed to watch him from inside the hood.

_Could . . . could it be?_

The figure raised a pale hand, pushing the hood back to reveal more dark hair, a pointed chin, and wide gray eyes. Shion felt a strangled gasp escape his throat, and his body began to tremble. He curled his hands into fists to stop their shaking. A conflicting wave of emotions coursed through him. Relief, joy, apprehension, even some anger, though perhaps only a form of it, were all there, crashing over him and swirling through him in a confusing mess.

He didn’t know what to do. Part of him wanted to run across the bakery and fling his arms around the tall figure, cry into his jacket and never let go. Another part of him wanted to throw a loaf of bread at his head and yell and scream at him for being gone so long.

“I—”

“You—”

Both of them started and then stopped, shifting awkwardly. Shion could feel tears burning his eyes, and he tried to blink them away. It seemed as though Nezumi was attempting to hold back his own emotions, though Shion wasn’t sure what those were. His face was as much of a mask to him as it had been the night they first met. It had been raining then too, and the familiarity of the scene in front of him struck Shion to his core.

Nezumi then seemed to steady himself. He straightened. Took a step forward.

“Shion? Is everything okay? I heard the door . . .”

Yui descended the stairs, dressed in one of Shion’s shirts and pants, the legs rolled up some. In her arms, the still sleepy Safu yawned, resting his head on her shoulder. The sight of her seemed to give Nezumi a start. He stared, his eyes wide. At first, Shion wasn’t sure what was wrong, why Nezumi appeared so horrified. Then he looked at the scene again, trying to see what Nezumi saw.

His own eyes widened then. “Nezumi—”

“This was a mistake,” Nezumi choked out, before turning and leaving the shop.

Shion was already racing after him. Yui called to him, perplexed, but he ignored her. Instead, he ran out the door and into the rain, following Nezumi down the steps that led to the street, trying desperately to catch up.

“Nezumi! Nezumi, wait! Stop!”

The thought of losing him again had Shion choking back tears. He couldn’t, not again. Not after all this time. He urged his legs to go faster, pumped his arms harder, lowered his head and yelled . . .

. . . before he turned a corner and slammed into Nezumi’s back. He yelped, bouncing off and landing in the mud. This didn’t bother him though, and he immediately leaped to his feet, reaching out to grab Nezumi’s sleeve.

“That’s all you’re going to say?” he yelled at the back of Nezumi’s head. “You’re just going to show up and then leave without a word but saying it’s a mistake? Is that what I am to you, Nezumi? A mistake?!”

Shion could feel Nezumi’s body trembling, but he certain it wasn’t because of the rain. “Two years. Two years and not a word from you,” he continued after Nezumi refused to speak. “But I never gave up hope. I never did. No more goodbye kisses. You remember that, don’t you? You made me promise.” He stopped, his voice breaking. It was embarrassing, but he surged on, gathering momentum. “So I knew we’d be together again. Because you’d said . . . you’d said no more goodbye kisses. I’ve been waiting and waiting, and you don’t even say my name.”

Nezumi turned then, slowly. The emotion in his face startled Shion, and he dropped his hand from the taller boy’s sleeve. But then Nezumi looked away into the rain, and Shion watched as his throat constricted and then released.

“I wanted . . . I needed to be worthy of you,” he said softly, and Shion could only stare.

“What?”

Nezumi turned toward him again, a frustrated look on his face. “I left because I had too much hate in me still. I couldn’t live here with you, so I left to become better. To become worthy of you.”

Shion blinked. Did Nezumi think so little of himself? Or was it simply that he thought too highly of Shion?

Shion lifted his hands to the side in a helpless gesture, the rain soaking into his clothes, sliding against his skin and making him shiver. “You don’t have to become anything for me,” he said softly. “I knew you left because you couldn’t live in No.6, but also I knew you’d come back once you saw it changed for good. I didn’t . . . I never said or thought that you weren’t worthy . . .”

Nezumi’s face was downcast, as he stared at the cobbled stones beneath their feet. “You’re so good, innocent and pure. I had so much hatred inside of me . . . I didn’t . . . I couldn’t taint you with it.”

Shion gave a long-suffering sigh. “All this time, and you still think you need to protect me?” He shook his head, the rain dripping onto his nose from his hair. Clenching his hands into fists, he stood there a moment, trembling, before reaching up to shove Nezumi hard against his chest. Nezumi, surprised, stumbled back a step.

“Stop trying to protect me from everything! Especially yourself! You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, don’t you realize that?” Shion yelled, glaring up at Nezumi’s startled face. “I’m not some child that needs to held by the hand! I’m not some delicate flower that needs to be placed in a glass jar on some high shelf! I’m a man! Same as you!” He reached out to grab Nezumi’s hand. The taller boy flinched, but Shion held tight, pulling it toward his face. He rested the palm of it against his cheek, doing his best not to be affected by the warmth of it.

“Touch me. Feel me,” he said urgently, feeling more tears pricking his eyes. “Flesh and blood. Human. Same as you. Same as everyone else. Nobody is better than anyone else, least of all me! I’m not some angel or someone to put on a pedestal, Nezumi! I’ve made mistakes. I’ve killed.”—here Nezumi flinched again—“I’m not perfect! So you don’t have to try and make yourself perfect in order to reach my standard, or whatever stupid idea you have.”

He was breathing hard now, and still the shivers wracked his body from the cold rain that continued to fall in heavy sheets. Nezumi stared at Shion, his gray eyes wide in his pale face. His hand, still pressed against Shion’s cheek, moved slightly, and Shion let it go. Its thumb brushed against the curve of his scar, a gesture so familiar and tender, it caused Shion’s chest to ache once more.

“Shion . . .” Nezumi said softly, and Shion noticed with some disappointment that his eyes were full of wonder. Afraid he would miss his point, Shion stepped back out of reach. Nezumi’s hand hung in the air for a moment, before falling to his side.

“I want to be with you,” Shion said then softly, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “But only if we’re equals.” He was risking much saying this, he knew. It could very well be that Nezumi would leave again, unable to deal with Shion being on the same level as him. It would break Shion’s heart, but he didn’t want to be Nezumi’s ideal. That wasn’t the type of relationship he wanted with him.

“You’re shivering,” Nezumi said after a moment. He took off his cloak, wrapping it around Shion’s shoulders. As he did, he pulled the smaller boy close, and Shion rested his forehead against Nezumi’s shoulder, the warmth of his body and the cloak helping to calm the tremors.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he admitted softly, voice muffled by the material of Nezumi’s jacket. “I just don’t want you to try and protect me from yourself anymore. You don’t need to.”

“But it’s my fault—”

Shion shook his head, stepping back out of the embrace. “No. Nothing is your fault,” he said with a small smile. He reached out to take Nezumi’s hand then. “Come on. I’ll make you some coffee, and you can officially meet Yui.”

Nezumi allowed Shion to take his hand, but didn’t move immediately when Shion tried to tug him back up the street. “That girl was wearing your clothes,” he said in a husky voice.

Shion tilted his head, perplexed again as to why that was an issue. Then he remembered and laughed softly. “She borrowed them because of the rain. You might need to as well,” he said with a grin, pulling Nezumi forward again, and this time the taller boy went with him back toward the shop.


	3. Chapter Two

Nezumi felt awkward in Shion’s too small clothes, but he sat in them anyway as his own clothes dried out in the upstairs bathroom. He sat on the stairs, watching Yui with a faint frown, as she began preparations for opening the bakery. She was still wearing Shion’s clothes, and an unpleasant feeling gnawed at his stomach as he looked at her. She was very beautiful, that was plain to see. And she appeared comfortable there in that environment, almost as though she belonged. That didn’t sit well with him either.

The toddler Safu teetered around the shop on unsteady legs. He’d been fascinated with Nezumi at first, wanting to play with his hair, and Nezumi had endured his endless grabs and yanks in longsuffering silence, until Yui had pulled the baby away with an apology. He’d only grunted at her, not wanting anything from her.

Shion was upstairs, getting changed into dry clothes as well. Nezumi kept going over in his mind the words he’d said outside in the rain, wondering if he could really accept that. If he could accept that someone as pure as Shion was the same as someone as cruel and awful as himself. It was difficult to wrap his mind around it.

“So you’re Nezumi?” Yui asked after a moment.

Nezumi resisted the urge to sigh and grunted the affirmative.

“Shion’s mentioned you quite a bit, though he never said how beautiful you are,” she said with a small smile.

Nezumi wondered if she was trying to mollify him with flattery. Well, it wasn’t going to work. Unperturbed by his silence, Yui continued to finish the displays, chattering on about how she and Shion met, and how she came to work for Karan in the bakery. Nezumi barely listened, instead wondered how Shion was getting along upstairs. He was half-tempted to go check on him, when he recalled how Shion had yelled at him outside. He didn’t want a repeat of that, so he stayed put and tried not to think of Shion changing.

A few minutes later, Shion came down the stairs, his white hair still damp, but the rest of him fairly dry. He smiled when he saw Nezumi waiting at the base of the steps, and the way it lit up his entire face made Nezumi’s chest ache painfully. He stood slowly, giving Shion room to enter the storefront.

“You look ridiculous in my clothes,” Shion said with a soft laugh.

“I feel ridiculous,” Nezumi admitted, allowing a small smile in return. It quickly disappeared, as Yui approached to tell Shion how she’d prepared the bakery.

A tug at his pant-leg had Nezumi glancing down at Safu, who was watching him with wide eyes. Unsure of what to do, Nezumi stared back at the child. Was he supposed to pick him up, or? He debated the pros and cons of this, until Shion moved to pick up the baby himself.

“Do you want to hold him?” Shion asked with a smile.

Nezumi shook his head. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” he admitted.

Shion studied him a moment, and Nezumi couldn’t read his expression, which frustrated him, so he looked away. Shion gave the baby to Yui, asking her to take him upstairs. She did so without protest, leaving Nezumi and Shion alone. Immediately the tension grew, and Nezumi found himself gripping the bannister of the staircase, resisting the urge to grab Shion and do to him everything he’d done in his dreams while he’d been away. Not only was it highly inappropriate to do in a storefront, it also acutely embarrassed Nezumi to think of doing such things to Shion of all people. While he’d been away and it’d been just dreams and fantasies, Nezumi had felt little to no guilt. But standing here in front of him changed everything.

Shion watched him with a funny little smile, which Nezumi struggled to understand.

“What?” he asked finally, his voice huskier than he’d meant it to be. He cleared his throat.

“You don’t look much different,” Shion said in response. “Perhaps your hair is longer. You’re a little thinner too.”

Nezumi huffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re one to talk about thin,” he said. “Still scrawny as ever, and you work in a bakery! I’m pretty sure that’s some sort of contradiction.”

Shion flushed. “I’m stronger than I used to be!” he exclaimed. “I may be skinny, but I do a lot around here.”

Nezumi shrugged, moving toward the kitchen and picking up a roll to bite into. It was warm and soft, practically melting in his mouth. He suddenly realized how hungry he was, and he scarfed down three more rolls, before he realized Shion was staring at him. He grimaced.

“Sorry. I can pay for those,” he said, reaching for his pocket, before remembering he was wearing Shion’s clothes, and his wallet was upstairs in his own pants.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shion said with a small smile. “I didn’t even think . . . I should’ve offered you something to eat right away. Oh! The coffee!” He hurried into the kitchen to pull the jar off the heat, turning then to pour some into two mugs.

Nezumi watched from the doorway, pretty sure he’d never get tired of watching Shion. He cleared his throat before his thoughts could turn dirty again.

“Have you seen Inukashi lately?” he asked instead.

“Yes. I go to wash the dogs every weekend,” Shion said with a nod, moving closer to hand Nezumi a mug filled with delicious smelling coffee. Nezumi’s hands warmed instantly, as he wrapped them around the mug.

“He said there’s a rumor . . . that you and that girl are . . . together,” Nezumi said, embarrassed by his own uncertainty, and the fact that he felt the need to bring it up at all.

Shion stared at him for a moment before laughing softly. “Inukashi does like to bother you.” He shook his head. “No, no, there’s nothing like that. She’s just a friend.” He sipped his coffee, watching Nezumi from over the rim in such a way that caused Nezumi’s stomach to flip-flop anxiously.

“But . . . surely there must be someone,” Nezumi said, straightening and speaking a little louder to try and diffuse the tension. But Shion was already shaking his head.

“No, there’s no one.”

“It’s been two years, plenty of time to find someone.”

“Nezumi.”

“And a lot has changed around here. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a girlfriend for every day of the week! You’re quite the important person now, aren’t you?”

“Nezumi.”

“It would be only fair,” Nezumi continued, his nerves writhing in his stomach. He had no idea what had gotten into him. He was normally calm and composed. He sounded like an idiot, blathering on like this. Never before had his emotions taken such control over him. Was being around Shion after all this time affecting him that much?

Shion had gotten closer as he said his name, and now he was directly in front of him. Nezumi’s heart pounded wildly in his chest, as he looked down into those large, dark red eyes. He ached to reach out and touch him. To run his fingers through that white hair, to trace that red line down across Shion’s body . . . 

Flushing, he looked away, the mug in his hand trembling.

“There’s nobody else in the world that I want, except you,” Shion said quietly, biting is lip as he looked up at Nezumi.

Not for the first time did Nezumi admire Shion’s courage and ability to speak his mind and what he felt. His heart was always on his sleeve, available for the entire world to see. Nezumi had never had that ability. He’d never wanted it. It made you vulnerable. He’d always regarded it as a weakness.

Until he’d met Shion.

“Why would you wait for me?” Nezumi asked weakly, and he hated how small his voice sounded in his own ears. “You had no idea if I was coming back at all.”

“I love you.”

Shion didn’t even hesitate to say the words. To hear them shocked Nezumi to his core. He stared down at Shion, knowing what words he had to say next, but they were stuck in his throat. He hadn’t said them to anyone, ever. Not since he was five years old and still had a family.

He had to say them now, though. Shion was expecting it. He’d be disappointed if he didn’t say them. He’d be hurt. Nezumi couldn’t hurt Shion. Not again.

But still the words wouldn’t come.

He stared, wide-eyed, down at Shion, until the smaller boy took a step back. His expression was sad, but also one of understanding and compassion. Nezumi hated it and loved it at the same time. It was an interesting mix of emotions that he stifled as best he could with a gulp of his coffee.

“Will you stay here tonight?” Shion asked then, half-turning away.

Nezumi found his voice then. “If your mom doesn’t mind,” he said, sounding stronger than before, though not by much.

Shion flashed him a quick grin. “She won’t,” he said.

He turned away then, as the bell above the door rang and a customer entered the bakery under the protection of an umbrella. Shion stepped away to greet the customer, his voice friendly and professional, as he described the sweet breads and other delicacies.

While he was distracted doing so, Nezumi took the opportunity to escape up the stairs. Yui was in the main part of the apartment, so he retreated to the bathroom to hide, cursing himself for doing so even as he did. As ridiculous as he felt, he remained there until Karan returned from work, Yui went home, and the bakery closed for the day.


	4. Chapter Three

Shion tried to understand why Nezumi would be so hesitant about expressing himself, and he felt he did understand, in a way. Still, it was a little frustrating after everything they’d been through together. It would’ve been a lie to say that Shion hadn’t been hurt by Nezumi’s silence after he professed his love, but he’d tried again to see things from Nezumi’s perspective and found himself much more sympathetic toward the silence. Still, he was disappointed when he turned from his customer to find Nezumi had retreated up the stairs.

He continued to work, though it was a slow day, and his thoughts continued to return to Nezumi and how the two of them hadn’t really gotten a chance to catch up yet on the past two years. He was interested to know where Nezumi had gone and what he’d seen. If he’d been happy.

Eventually it was time to close the bakery, and Yui went home, handing Safu to him. Around the same time, Karan arrived, looking weary but satisfied. Shion quickly moved to help her up the stairs, making sure to warn her about Nezumi. She looked surprised, and straightened as they came to the door.

Together they stepped through it, and there was Nezumi, now wearing his normal clothes, standing awkwardly in the middle of their tiny apartment. Karan’s eyes widened momentarily, as she studied him. But then she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you for taking care of my son and for bringing him back to me.”

Nezumi seemed surprised, but he hugged her back after a moment. When he looked up at him, Shion thought he saw tears twinkling in the corners of his eyes, and he wondered when the last time was that a mother had hugged Nezumi.

Karan insisted Nezumi stay for dinner and agreed to him staying the night after Shion asked. The rain had ceased some time during the day, and the evening had turned quite pleasant, so Karan suggested the two of them sleep out on the patio under the stairs. She said it would be more comfortable than trying to cram them both in the top bunk of the bunk bed she and Shion shared.

Shion thought this was a great idea, and Nezumi didn’t protest. Shion prepared dinner for all of them, though he insisted that he wasn’t as good of a cook as Nezumi was, which had Nezumi flushing as Karan exclaimed over this. Shion couldn’t help but grin, as he watched the two of them. Safu sat on Karan’s knee, as she asked Nezumi questions about his life, and surprisingly he answered them.

Shion learned more about Nezumi in that one evening than he had in the entire time he’d lived with the other boy.

As they set up blankets and pillows on the patio, he ventured a question.

“Did you really find the Forest Folk while you were away?” he asked softly.

Nezumi nodded, fluffing a pillow before setting it down. “There were only a few of them, but they brought me in and treated me like family.”

“Why would you leave them then?” Shion had to ask. He couldn’t image how difficult it must have been for Nezumi to leave the only family he’d ever had since the destruction of his home.

“It just . . . it wasn’t enough,” Nezumi said softly, looking up toward the sky. “I was still missing something.”

Shion watched his profile, the gentle curves of it. He was very beautiful. Shion wondered briefly if that was a Forest Folk thing, or just a Nezumi thing. He liked to think that the ethereal beauty was unique to Nezumi. That it made him unique, even among the rest of his people. That he was special even to them.

“What were you missing?” he asked, though he thought he already knew the answer.

Nezumi looked at him, and the look in his eyes was so intense that it caused a shiver to go down Shion’s spine. “Do I really have to say?” he asked, his voice low.

“It-It’d be nice to hear,” Shion admitted softly.

Slowly, Nezumi moved closer to Shion, leaning forward so that their faces were inches apart. Shion swallowed, his heartbeat quickening. For a moment they lingered like that, and Shion wondered what Nezumi was thinking. Then the other boy sighed softly and started to pull away. Shion felt his heart begin to tear, and he quickly reached out to touch the side of Nezumi’s neck, just the way he’d done so long ago.

It had the desired effect. Nezumi froze, staring at him. Cautiously, Shion guided Nezumi’s face back toward him. He only hesitated briefly, before he gently pressed his lips against Nezumi’s. Almost immediately, it was like the tension left Nezumi’s body. He sagged against Shion, who quickly wrapped his arms around Nezumi to keep him steady. The weight of him, however, caused Shion to fall back against the pillows and blankets they’d arranged.

Shion’s breath hitched in his throat, as he felt Nezumi start to kiss him back. This time, neither of them was staying still. They weren’t stiffly standing or sitting, receiving the kiss in surprise. They were moving together, almost as one. Shion’s fingers gripped the back of Nezumi’s shirt, and Nezumi’s legs shifted so one nestled between Shion’s legs.

One of them murmured softly, but Shion couldn’t tell whom. It could’ve been him, but it also sounded like Nezumi. His heart was pounding rapidly, and he arched into Nezumi, kissing him more urgently. It’d been so long. For so long he’d felt as though a part of him was missing, and now he could feel that piece mending inside of him, becoming whole once more. He wondered if Nezumi felt the same.

It was a long moment before their lips parted. They lay there, still entwined, both panting. Slowly, Shion opened his eyes, and found Nezumi looking down at him. His hair had fallen around his face, obscuring it. Shion moved one hand from Nezumi’s back in order to push some strands behind his ear.

“I-I . . . I love you too,” Nezumi said then, roughly

Shion’s eyes widened momentarily, before his face relaxed into a grin. He couldn’t help it. Slowly, Nezumi began to smile back, almost as though he couldn’t help it either.

Shion leaned up to kiss him again, and Nezumi responded eagerly. Shion wasn’t entirely sure how long they lay there, their fingers hesitantly moving to explore beneath their clothes as they kissed and kissed and kissed. Goosebumps traveled up and down his skin with each tender touch, and Shion wondered if he was having the same effect on Nezumi. He was confident, at least, that he’d never been so happy in his entire life.

It was only when Nezumi’s fingers began to slip into Shion’s pants, that Shion stopped them. He lay panting beside the taller boy, his forehead resting against Nezumi’s. His hand had reached down between them, wrapping around Nezumi’s wrist. Instantly, Nezumi had frozen, and Shion hastened to explain.

“I just . . . I-I’m not . . . I-I’ve never done anything like this before,” he admitted almost feverishly.

Nezumi regarded him quietly, no judgment in his expression. “We don’t have to do anything,” he said then, and he moved his hand away to take Shion’s instead, lacing his fingers through his.

Shion swallowed hard, unable to tell if Nezumi was disappointed or not. “I just . . . I’m not really . . . I haven’t really _wanted_ to . . . with anyone.” He shook his head slightly, licking his lips. Nezumi simply watched him, thumb lightly stroking against the side of Shion’s hand.

“It’s not that I don’t want to with you! Because I-I think I do,” Shion admitted. “Just . . . can we just be like this for right now?” He looked down at his hand in Nezumi’s, and felt a wave of relief as he felt a squeeze.

“I like this,” Nezumi admitted softly, nuzzling his forehead against Shion’s gently.

Shion relaxed further, his breathing more controlled, as his frantic heartbeat began to return to normal, if still a little fast. He closed his eyes, shifting closer to Nezumi as a breeze moved past. Nezumi sat up briefly, grabbing a blanket to pull it over the both of them, before lying back down beside Shion, looking at him quietly in the faint light of the moon.

“I like this,” he said again, lifting his hand to brush his thumb along the scar on Shion’s cheek.

Shion felt a slight shiver at the touch, and he swallowed. “I love you,” he said quietly, lips barely moving. 

Nezumi regarded him silently for a moment. Then, leaning forward, he pressed a gentle, lingering kiss against Shion’s lips. Shion trembled even as he returned it. As tender as it was, there was a host of emotions behind it, and the gravity of it all shook Shion to his core.

“I love you too,” Nezumi murmured as he pulled back, though only to rest his forehead against Shion’s once more. The words seemed to come easier for him this time, and Shion couldn’t help but feel elated by this fact.

“No more goodbye kisses,” Shion said then, softly but with firm finality.

Nezumi chuckled softly, gripping Shion’s hand once more. “No more goodbye kisses,” he promised.

Satisfied, Shion allowed his eyes to close. Snuggled up against Nezumi, he felt completely safe with the knowledge that Nezumi would never leave him again. And for the first time in two years, no nightmares plagued his dreams.


End file.
